


The Triumphant

by duckiesinaline



Series: The Emperor's Clothes [4]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckiesinaline/pseuds/duckiesinaline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you thinking?" Clu husked, barely an inch away, the heat thick between them as the admin stopped, just shy. Tron breathed deep, let his eyes half-lid as their chests barely brushed; retrieved flashes of shadows and movement and the whip-crack of weaponsfire in the warm, acrid scents of sweat and gunpowder. "I knew where you were, what you were doing, what you were going to do ... "</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Triumphant

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaaaaand ... it's a wrap! The fourth and final installment of the Emperor's Clothes, and I thank you all for such a lovely ride! :) Thank you to everyone who gave me encouragement through all the trials and tribulations, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The door snicked shut behind them, and Clu still had yet to touch him.

But the admin hardly needed to. Since their re-resolution in the user world, there had been something indefinable between them, like ghost data from a hidden port. Tron could _feel_ it, like static on his arms where they were bared to the elbow, shirt-sleeves pushed messily up his forearms. He could sense the shadow of the other man as Clu passed behind him, needed neither the steps hidden in the room's plush carpet nor the non-existent scuff as a weapon was removed, and turned with a hand upraised just in time for his gun - flung casually across the space between them - to slap into his gloved palm.

Earlier, when Clu's weapon had clicked empty, Tron had flicked his right-hand pistol out without a thought. Then, as now, it had landed perfectly in the intended grip.

"You can feel it too, can't you?"

Tron did not respond in word or gesture, knew it was unnecessary when Clu stalked toward him with such clear intent on his face. Tron let himself slide back before the advance, felt his user-pulse beat rapid in his throat as the wall pressed solid against his back.

To be honest, it had barely slowed since their escape. 

"What are you thinking?" Clu husked, barely an inch away, the heat thick between them as the admin stopped, just shy. Tron breathed deep, let his eyes half-lid as their chests barely brushed; retrieved flashes of shadows and movement and the whip-crack of weaponsfire in the warm, acrid scents of sweat and gunpowder. "I knew where you were, what you were doing, what you were going to do ... "

He could see the shadow of one hand, pressed against the wall, out of the corner of one eye; the blur of the admin's profile, too close, on the edge of the other. Experience brushed aside the man's words while instinct pushed his hands inside the admin's open jacket, and neither disappointed as Clu's breath hissed out and the man abruptly surged against him.

Tron's head thumped back against the wall as his fingers tangled in sweat-dampened cloth; felt his own breath hitch inside his throat as a thigh pressed deliciously against the ache between his own. There was an answering hardness against his hip, and he arched against the body blanketing him - not to dislodge, but just to feel the breadth and weight and heat that pressed against all the contacts that have become invisible again.

The physical sensations were as much of a relief for wire-taut nerves as the more predictable ache of his body. When they had returned, shoulder to shoulder, weapons already drawn to face a line of the same, he had thought, for a single glitched moment, that they had still been on the grid. They had dove to either side, the air abruptly filled with sound, and he had known where Clu would be, had known what part he was to play; could almost see the stats and vectors and predictive ratios hovering in neon around the edges of his vision. It had felt like the arena, the light-limned streets, like - 

Like when he had still been security chief and Clu had been Flynn's sysadmin. Like when they had still known how to work together, to fight together. 

Tron's fingers must have been leaving bruises in the man's back by now but Clu merely grunted, breaths rough against his ear, stubble a rasp against his cheek as they moved. The hands that had been curled just as tightly around Tron's hips slid up between them, clawed impatiently at the waistcoat, then left it hanging open to tug impatiently at the shirt beneath. Tron whined when the admin shifted and he could grind his full length against firm muscle; felt a fierce, wicked delight spark in his belly when the man shuddered at the sound.

Naked fingers dug beneath his shirt and blunt nails scraped across bare skin. Heat locked over his throat when he bared it with a keen, suckling at the frisson of sound trapped within. He licked abruptly dry lips, suddenly wanting, _needing_ to taste as well -

He barely heard Clu's growl of protest when he arched his hips out, winning a miniscule sliver of space between them, and nearly cost himself his own resolve at that last shock of exquisite pressure. He sank down quickly enough that his knees ached with the impact upon the floor - fingers fumbling with belt and fastenings when they had always been sure upon a weapon - and when a heavy hand dropped upon his head, he answered with something wordless, frantic and insistent. He didn't bother waiting when the trousers finally yielded, simply nosed through to close his mouth around the width of the cock directly through the cotton - and felt his own hips give a small, aborted thrust when Clu shuddered and _groaned_ , the organ twitching against his tongue.

Clu was still, _rigidly_ still, as he mouthed the stiff length through damp cloth; then exhaled noisily when he finally tired of the bland taste, scraping the edge of the briefs down to paint a single, wet stripe upon the skin itself. Tron curved both hands around the admin's hips, thumbs fitting perfectly within the hollows on either side, and inhaled the hot, rich scent before finally letting himself wrap his lips carefully around the tip.

The hand that was buried within his hair curled convulsively as he dragged his tongue across the blunt head.

Even through closed eyes, Tron could _feel_ the shadow Clu cast over him; the elegant curve of the body overhead as the man rested forehead against bent arm and filled the dark, intimate space with rough pants. Sucking gently at a bright spurt of taste, Tron flattened his tongue against the pulse along the bottom of the shaft, pressed his palm's heel against the urgent pressure in his own groin, and let the growl start as the barest of hums as he pressed forward ... let it swell with the flesh in his mouth when his throat protested and he prepared himself to take it even further ...

The grip in his hair abruptly tightened, harsh enough that he could feel individual strands pull. A bone deep shudder through the hips he was braced against, and his mouth was abruptly empty ... his back against the wall ... and suddenly he was half-scrabbling his way up the surface with a keen as a hand dove through the front of his trousers and gave a rough, stroking _squeeze_.

"Didn't I say ... I had other plans for that mouth of yours?" Clu rasped breathlessly into his ear.

A sound of inquiry was strangled, stillborn, as that unrelenting grip tugged at him again, and Tron arched up onto his toes. A hand palmed his ass, clutched him close, and Tron was shaking, panting, struggling for air past a collar that had not felt so tight even while in the midst of battle. Heat closed upon the skin just above, and there was sucking pressure and a brief prick of pain, and the rough drag of bristles after Clu's teeth released him only made Tron's knees go weak as his nails dug into cloth and skin ...

There were only snapshots, after. GIFs, barely. A leg pushed between his, pressing in, relentless even when he clawed at broad shoulders in a mindless attempt to escape the pressure. The sweat upon his temple as Clu's brow leaned against it, breaths hot against his jaw. The dig of a holster as it was caught awkwardly between them, a dull thump as it hit the wall ... and then the perfect torture of that moment just before release, and the incandescence which inevitably followed ...

Tron was not at all certain he could remember how this body breathed, as he stared at the soft halos of light set into the ceiling.

"I want to be inside you."

He was still being stroked - a slower, gentler touch this time, eased somewhat now by more than just sweat - and his body twitched and trembled in reluctant rhythm. It wasn't until Clu repeated himself, a note of impatience beneath his words, that Tron realized that the admin was waiting ... and suffered a moment of blank confusion. 

Clu hardly needed his help - or even compliance - with that particular feat, and yet, the admin _was_ waiting. _Continued_ to wait through Tron's bemusement. Even though the hand that brushed him eventually stilled, even though the body against his tensed and bowed, even though the man's breath began to hiss audibly between teeth bared and clenched ... and Tron blinked dumbly as he realized that this was real, that Clu was waiting for _him_ , and before curiosity could even think about presenting "no" as an option, he was already croaking out a rough, bewildered, "Okay."

The harness and the guns were peremptorily brushed off his shoulders, thumping heavily upon the carpet. The tie pin, palmed, was set with odd care upon the bureau as they passed. In slow, methodical steps, Clu backed him toward the bed, taking only the time to strip him from the waist down, and as Tron flopped back upon the covers, still feeling frame-less and only half-booted, the admin shed his jacket with a languidness that belied the earlier urgency.

Tron blinked, trying to clear the torpor from his mind, as he watched the man with a strange coil of apprehension in his belly. Clu's motions were slow and deliberate as the admin nudged his thighs apart, kneeling between them, and hooked a finger beneath his tie. The knot was unravelled with a single scrape of a finger, the buttons beneath undone with an equal lack of ceremony. And as all the layers of cloth were brushed aside, laying his body bare upon them, Tron suddenly felt more vulnerable than he had ever been, even when the administrator had reached into his very core.

He had been broken before, but never willingly. As he felt his muscles tightening beneath the weight of Clu's steady gaze, he was afraid that it might not be true any longer.

"Talk to me," Clu said as he braced a hand over Tron; and even as Tron struggled to deduce the purpose, what thoughts he managed to gather scattered at the press of a slick fingertip between his legs.

It felt strange to be breached now, after he had already been sated, and he couldn't help the small roll of his hips to ease the not-quite-discomfort before Clu was repeating himself. "Why - " Tron began, then hissed when the finger curled, and it was joined by another.

"I want to hear you." The words were deceptively simple, mild and almost careless. Tron felt as if Clu's regard had physical weight, pressing down upon his chest, shortening his breaths already, even though his body was not yet interested.

"I don't - " Tron began before his jaw tightened against the third finger added. A little too fast, but just this side of tolerable - and Clu took full advantage of his distraction to lean down and breathe against his throat, "Just talk, Tron. It doesn't have to be that complicated."

Legs spread upon Clu's thighs, shivering in spite of the heat hovering oh-so-close, Tron stared up at the ivory-toned ceiling and tried to tame the inevitable grating tick as he asked, "What ... what should I talk about?"

A pause, as the only movement came from the slow rock of fingers inside him. Tron swallowed as the silence lengthened, had far too much time to wonder what it meant. Wondered why Clu wished to hear the cracked facsimile of his voice at all, after all this time, before the touch abruptly withdrew, something larger pressed close, and Clu mused with an almost audible shrug, "Surprise me."

He barely had time to draw a breath before Clu was pushing in. Back arching, Tron panted shallowly through the pressure, fingers clenched in shirt and covers, fighting not to curl away. No, there had not been quite enough preparation, but it was bearable, he _could_ bear it, and by the time the admin had stopped moving, was seated flush against him, he began to realize that the sweat which tickled down his throat came from more than just the burn of the stretch.

Clu had wrapped himself around Tron. Snuck an arm beneath his neck, leaned far in, and tucked his head within the crook. The other arm had slid up Tron's side, latched beneath the shoulder, pulling his body close. The man's hips hitched lightly - rolling, rather than pushing - as if reluctant to lose any contact, no matter how fleetingly. As much pinned as held, never more conscious of the man's comparitive bulk than now, Tron felt nearly smothered.

"Why ... what are you doing, Clu?" he rasped, unnerved, barely aware of the foot and elbow he was already attempting to brace wide and the hand he had buried in the admin's hair when Clu snarled, _"Talk."_

Oddly, the impatience, the _frustration_ , reassured him. This was a Clu he was familiar with - this was a Clu he knew how to deal with. "Okay ... okay ... " he murmured, fingers relaxing slowly from their grip; resting, now, rather than preparing for violence. "I ... it feels ... "

It felt strange to be embraced like this, to feel Clu around him - _in_ him - when everything had already calmed. There was no urgency, no struggle; no clawing, desperate need, on _either_ of their parts ... 

Just the rough weave of the trousers beneath his thighs and buttocks. The satin brush of his shirt trapped beneath his back - another, half undone, pressed against his front. The tug of his half-shed waistcoat, from Clu's grip upon his shoulder. The brush of hair upon his cheek -

"Stop that."

Tron choked to a halt, breath half-held, abruptly conscious of the hand which now rested over his throat. Clu had shifted only enough to curl his fingers around it; not in true threat, though the reminder made Tron swallow against its weight.

"Why are you doing that?"

It was less a question and more a demand, but as comforting as Clu's arrogance was, Tron was still struggling through undocumented paths. "Doing what - "

 _"That,"_ Clu snapped, nipping at the edge of neck and shoulder in remonstrance, "talking like that, like you're trying to hide ... "

Flinching, Tron bucked in irritation, hampered by weight and position. "What do I have left to hide - " he growled testily before the fingers abruptly slid sideways, cradling the back of his neck, and he was forced to tilt his head even further as Clu nuzzled beneath his chin and rested lips directly upon his throat.

"There," the admin breathed reverently against his pulse. "That's it. That's what I want to hear."

Tron's fingers tightened in the rucked cloth at Clu's waist, in the wrinkled sheets beneath him; felt heat pool, unbidden, deep within his belly. "What are you - "

"Your voice. Talking like you want to." A soft snort, and Clu might have loosened his grip by a micron or two; at the least, shifted back just enough so that he may slide inside again like a slow, languid apology. "If I wanted to hear something else, I would've made the edits while you were still suspended on the grid."

Tron was justifiably distracted. His body had automatically arched into the thrust though his cock had only given a half-hearted twitch, and with no pleasure or passion to mask the sensations, he was exquisitely aware of the breadth and length that was pushing lazily back into his body; a thick, foreign presence that was not quite comfortable yet but welcome all the same. But Clu had yet to reproach him for his silence by the time he grasped the implications ...

And when he did, Clu hissed, curling even closer, hips grinding involuntarily into the sudden tightness.

Tron sucked in a deep breath, released it shakily along with the tension. Tightened arms and legs around the body already pressed so close to his ... and talked. 

"The last rumored enclave ... you decided to make a personal appearance - "

His original voice, lost, overwritten, existed only in shattered memories. The current iteration had seen far less use than the purr that had so enamored Clu. But now ... now, it was being given free rein; registered, accepted. He dared to think that this would be the final iteration ... dared to hope that what future edits there were would be only by his own demand.

" - and when I came back online ... could barely sort the draw distances ... you smirked at me and said - "

The rock of Clu's hips had become more insistent, and Tron curled his legs around them to tilt his own hips up to meet it. His words stuttered briefly at the rough pull of cloth against his slowly filling cock, the smooth stroke of skin upon skin as the rest of Clu's attire began to come undone. The admin shivered, groaned, slid his hand along Tron's arm, and dragged palm along the muscle and tendon underside before trapping his wrist against the bed.

" - gave you the orange ... your face - think I almost threw an exception - "

Sweat itched between his shoulders, in the places where they met; the heat trapped between them almost sweltering. But there were many things competing for his attention now, and Tron's words stumbled, tripped, as he lost the thread of one thought only to pick up another mid-line ... 

" - didn't care I was _Tron_ , cheated - you cheated just as outrageously as - "

Clu's breaths were coming short and fast, warm puffs against his bare skin. They wandered briefly up and lingered consideringly at the corner of his mouth before laying aside the temptation to stopper his words. Brushed back down, licking at the hollow of his throat, and then deflected aside across the slant of bone. Slowed, as they traveled down, and began to graze the fresh seam in the flesh over his ribs ...

" - I didn't ... didn't know what to think ... Flynn came back, microcycles later, and he had with him - "

Teeth this time, sharp enough at the mention of the creator's name that Tron flinched, before it was followed by the slick warmth of a tongue, unapologetic. Tron shuddered, twisting, growl swelling within its newly scarred cage, and Clu sealed his mouth upon the central blemish before sucking boldly enough to wrench a cry from him.

"I saw you!" he gasped, growled, unashamedly panted as he struggled to find the words, these most important ones, "Just like him, but you were not, you weren't _user_ , you were like _me_ \- "

Clu reared back; there was finally space between them, chill air. There was nothing holding him anymore, but still, he couldn't move.

" - relief ... anticipation ... you would understand what it was like, you would understand me, we would work together - "

Clu slammed into him and his voice hitched and choked; he arched and clawed at the thighs beneath him as a grip wrapped around his cock - it was too soon, he was still too sensitive, but oh users everything was so bright, so sharp, so good ...

" - close - you're closer than any of us, but you'd remain with _me_ ... remain with ... _I thought you were perfect_ \- "

Clu snarled, but Tron could not interpret it; had nothing left to parse with when the grip tightened and tugged and the admin thrust fast and sharp and ground deep inside it was _perfect_ \- 

It almost hurt, to come again so soon. It burned through him, hollowed him out; left what felt like only a fragile, brittle shell behind.

Clu made a choked, wounded sound, and slowly folded in clumsy increments. Tron felt himself being gathered in, but did not have the strength to open his eyes; didn't even mind the cooling damp in uncomfortable places, the fabrics that have wadded up beneath his ribs. Was already half-drifting, feeling oddly thin and insubstantial -

\- and felt his heart thump once, hard against his ribs, when a hand threaded round the back of his skull and words were breathed against his temple, rough and unguarded.

"Together, we will overcome all ... together, we will be triumphant."


End file.
